


Please Rewind Before Returning

by Lauren (notalwaysweak)



Series: Dread: the Lost Year [2]
Category: Sagas of Sundry, Sagas of Sundry: Dread
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 17:22:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11787852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren
Summary: Tanner becomes a repeat customer, the booth undergoes a slight renovation, and Kayden goes home for Thanksgiving.





	Please Rewind Before Returning

**Author's Note:**

> Pre-Sagas, post-ITTD, during what I imagine would constitute the literal worst gap year ever.
> 
> Sagas of Sundry: Dread characters belong to their respective creators and are used here without thought of financial gain.
> 
> Thanks to Arkham for another excellent beta, especially with the snot-speak. If anything's still wrong, it's my fault.
> 
> For the Discordian Dreadnauts, especially GleefullyMacabre; thanks for the fanart *hearteyes*
> 
> * * *

Kayden is not sure how he feels about attaching sentiment to cocksucking.

He really wasn’t expecting Tanner to come back; it’s a long way from home to the city. It turns out that Tanner’s been getting into wedding photography and traveling all around the state, so that explains why he keeps turning up at the store. Sometimes he brings a nice flower from a bridesmaid’s bouquet and presents it to Tiff or Jude with a smile before going into the arcade.

He doesn’t know if Tanner comes in other times, when he’s not working. It seems like Tanner has a fairly regular schedule of when he’s in the city and when he’s elsewhere. That first Tuesday might have been a once-off; he usually shows up late Saturday night, being the most popular day for weddings. It’s also one of the most popular days for guys to come into the arcade, though. At least one time Kayden’s jaw is so fucking sore he’s about to trade off with Raoul or Charlie before realizing Tanner’s coming in and sitting his ass straight back down.

That’s the part he’s not so sure about. Any other guy, even any other regular, he’d still duck out and tag someone else in. Tanner, he’s not only fine with taking care of when he’s exhausted and aching, he’s also a fan of putting in a superb performance. It’s not about ensuring customer satisfaction; it’s about  _ Tanner _ .

* * *

The days grow shorter as winter break draws closer. Kayden’s been maintaining a steady C- at school; Michael’s made passing grades a condition of his ongoing employment. Kayden would assume it’s a threat based on his age and the insufficiency thereof, but Jude assures him that Michael cuts her shifts back when she has a bunch of papers to mark, ensuring that she gets that done on time and doesn’t get in trouble at her day job.

It’s weird: even though Michael could be considered Kayden’s pimp, if not for the fact that he’s not  _ actually _ renting Kayden out like a videotape, he’s a better dad than anything else. Definitely a better dad than Kayden’s father.

Kayden’s not so sure he still thinks so when Michael tells him to go home for Christmas, or at least Thanksgiving.

“Yeah, my family’s not really big on the whole holidays thing.”

“At least think about it,” Michael says.

“Sure, sure, sure.”

It’s not even November yet.

* * *

Michael brings in a toolkit and more soft black leather. Some time and swearing later, the hole is a little taller and wider. It’s still not so big that Kayden can get more than his hand through—or that someone on the other side could get their hand in with their cock and pull his hair, more’s the pity—but there’s more scope to move, to play.

It’s timely, as he’s been finding more ways to touch Tanner,

There’s the obvious. Tanner’s cock in his mouth and hand is pretty much as close contact as he can get. But he’s trying for small intimacies.

With this extra bit of room, he can reach completely through the hole to not only give a customer the signal but to teasingly beckon them closer with a couple of featherlight strokes before withdrawing his hand and letting them come to him. He can help roll condoms on, enjoying setting up a little gender discord in the customers’ minds by painting his nails a pretty pink or blue from time to time.

Charlie comes to him one day looking downright impressed with himself. The guy who just left the store looked thoroughly satisfied, somehow more so than usual.

“I’m guessing you didn’t just give him a really good hummer,” Kayden says, shelving the  _ Fuck Orgy _ series in chronological order.

Charlie leans in close. “We fucked.”

Two words: a world of implications. “Did he—did you go into his side or what?”

Charlie shakes his head. “That hole may not be super huge, but if you line up just right…” He demonstrates with his large hands. Kayden feels his mouth go dry. “I know we don’t usually, you know, talk much, but he was saying how good and hot my mouth was and I kinda said, well, you should try my ass… next thing I know he gets me to back up against the damn hole and you can guess the rest.”

“You  _ told _ me the rest, man.” Kayden whistles low and impressed, shaking his head. “Did he get you off too?”

“Nah. He said he had to get going and I said fine, I’d make my own arrangements.”

Kayden glances at the counter, where Jude’s filing her nails, then at the bulging front of Charlie’s pants, and finally at the curtain to the back room.

“Show me,” he says, voice rough.

Charlie smiles slow and wide. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

* * *

They tell Michael. Not about Charlie fucking Kayden, that’s none of his business, but about this new potential use for the glory hole.

“I was half hoping someone would work it out without me suggesting it, and half hoping none of you would think of it.” Michael sighs. He’s got all the arcade staff gathered in his office, the air redolent with the smell of pizza rather than sex. “It’s a complication.”

“We’d have to reassess what people can get for twenty bucks. I ain’t making a habit of it,” Charlie says.

“Me either,” says Tiff, pulling a piece of pizza free and wrapping the stringy cheese around her fingers to then suck it off. “I don’t think I’m that athletic.”

“I’ve seen you pole dance,” says Jude. “Trust me, you’re that athletic.”

“I’m not up for anal at all,” Raoul contributes. “Head is fine, but I’m not doing that.”

“I’ve gotta be in the right frame of mind,” Tim says. “I don’t think I could guarantee it every time I’m here.”

“We need a sign in the booth to let the guys know what’s on offer and what it costs.” Kayden sucks tomato sauce off his thumb and chases it with a sip of beer. “Something we can tack up and take down real quick, so if someone doesn’t want to offer something, they can just yank it down.”

Charlie grins. “And a sign out front that says ‘Specials Available’.”

Jude rolls her eyes. “I should’ve become a waitress. If the guys start coming to the counter and asking if they can get their bacon extra crispy and their eggs sunny-side-down, I quit.”

“What would that even be an euphemism for?” Raoul asks, raising an eyebrow and reaching for more pizza.

“Spanking your ass til it’s red then fucking it while you’re lying on your belly,” Tiff answers. She’s always the fastest to respond to such hypotheticals. “I mean, not  _ your _ ass specifically, but you know what I mean.”

“I’d like some time to think it over before we put anything overtly on offer,” Michael says, bringing the conversation back to its intended direction. “Adding ass to the equation brings in a whole lot more potential issues.” He looks at Tiff and Jude, who are sitting side by side atop a pair of low filing cabinets. “What about you two?”

“Do you mean will we do ass, or are you requesting the privilege of putting our pussies on sale?” Tiff asks.

“Both.”

“Neither,” says Jude immediately.

“Yeah, me either,” says Tiff. “No offence, Michael, but I like to be able to look someone in the face before I decide whether or not they get to fuck me.”

“Raoul, you’re a no on ass. Tim, sometimes. Charlie, I guess I already know your answer. Kayden?”

“I’m fine with whatever.” Kayden drinks some more of his beer. It’s good and cold but the chill as it trickles down his throat does nothing to dampen his growing need to figure out how to make this work in his favor.

“I’ll decide after Christmas,” Michael says. “I need some time to make sure you’re going to be safe.” He’s not quite looking at them any more, but down at the surface of his desk.

“We can look after—” Charlie starts, but Tiff hushes him.

“Is Jonathan doing okay?” she asks.

Michael looks away. “I think this meeting is over.”

Tiff shoos everyone out. Kayden looks back as he leaves and sees Michael press his head against her stomach as she stands beside him, her hand petting his thinning hair. Both of them look far older than they are in that moment.

* * *

 

A couple of weeks before Thanksgiving, Kayden’s trying not to act like he’s waiting expectantly for Tanner as he hangs out in the arcade. He’s sitting in the booth, contemplating a tear in his jeans and wondering whether he should bother stitching it or not. Normally he wouldn’t, but it’s on his inner thigh and has the potential to tear higher up, and he’s not a fan of letting his balls hang out.

He’s been working at the store for maybe three months, although the days tend to blur together unless he has an assignment due or he’s got to switch shifts for some reason. Then the dates become a whole lot clearer in his mind, and the way they’re counting down to the end of the semester, the end of the year.

There are only a few reasons to go back home. One less, since he doesn’t know if Raina’s coming home for the holidays. While he’s been calling Sat when he can, sometimes—often—she’s not home, and he doesn’t think any of the messages that he’s left for her have ever actually gotten to her. Darby’s unpredictable in her location, as likely to be at the library or at college as at home. To be fair, he could say almost the same for himself: sometimes even if he  _ is _ home he takes the phone off the hook just so that he can attempt to get some unbroken sleep. Balancing work and study and sleep is complicated.

He doesn’t call Tanner. He knows very well that Tanner’s alive.

Kayden yawns, checks the time, sips at the last of the Jolt. It’s warm but still drinkable; despite his job involving rather a lot of fluids at times, he’s limited as to what he can actually swallow.

Maybe Tanner’s not coming. Maybe he didn’t have anything on in the big city this weekend. Maybe he’s finally saved up enough for a plane ticket to get the fuck out of the state and go somewhere a photographer might actually find decent work that’s not posing yet another happy couple against the backdrop of the desert, finding the place where the bride’s white dress looks the most striking against the red sands.

Maybe Kayden’s just a little too relieved when Tanner’s light footsteps, quicker than usual, come along the narrow hallway and into the other side of the booth.

There’s a piece of fabric, a privacy curtain of sorts, that lets him restrict or widen the hole to an extent. Kayden spreads it a little wider than usual, quietly peeking as Tanner readies himself. He looks flushed and flustered as best as Kayden can see in the low light, wearing a different but no less dorky plaid shirt than usual. The bottom button is hanging a little loose and, when Tanner steps close enough, it’s this that Kayden playfully snags to reel him in, reaching most of his hand through to do it.

The button comes free and drops into his palm.

Kayden pauses with his hand open for just a second before Tanner’s hand covers his, closing his fingers over the button. Kayden accepts the odd little gift, withdrawing his hand long enough to slip it into his pocket before reaching out again, this time for Tanner’s shirt itself where it hangs loose and open, framing his cock.

Tanner doesn’t need any particular encouragement to come up close tonight. In fact when Kayden attempts to throw a little teasing in, Tanner snaps, “ _ No _ ,” the vocal equivalent of grabbing Kayden’s hair. Kayden treats it as such, pressing his face against the wood and letting Tanner take his mouth with quick, short thrusts.

He doesn’t even need to use his hands as well as his mouth. Tanner’s evidently had a rough day of some description and Kayden only needs to give him a few encouraging grunts and moans as Tanner’s body smacks against the wood, cock driving deep into Kayden’s mouth. 

When Tanner comes it’s with a low growling sound, and Kayden swears he can feel Tanner shooting down his throat.

Imagination, of course. When Tanner withdraws the condom is intact, dripping only with Kayden’s saliva, Tanner’s come safely contained inside it.

Reality can be so disappointing sometimes.

Tanner stuffs a five through the hole and leaves.

Kayden doesn’t know what he was expecting, really. To have Tanner sit his ass down and lean back against the partition so that Kayden can stroke his hair through the hole while Tanner talks about his shitty day?  _ Jesus _ .

He’s hard, of course. That happens. Sometimes with other people. Always, with Tanner. But fuck it, he doesn’t feel like he’s done enough to deserve getting off.

Kayden gets on with cleaning the booth. As ever, Tanner’s left his side impeccable; if it weren’t for the used condom in the trash, it would be as though he hadn’t even visited.

That, and the button in Kayden’s pocket.

He allows himself a moment to fish it out and inspect it. It’s unprepossessing until he holds it up to the light; then it gleams yellow-brown-orange, a striking tortoiseshell. Which is exactly the kind of stupid button that stupid Tanner  _ would _ have on his stupid plaid shirts.

He finishes cleaning up, checks the time, and starts shutting off the videos. With them all turned off the arcade is eerily silent.

“I guess we’re done for the night,” Raoul says when Kayden comes out of the arcade. “I haven’t seen anyone through here for an hour. Except your last customer.” He puts a sarcastic twist on the word  _ customer _ that surprises Kayden; it’s not as though Raoul doesn’t spend time in the booth too. Matter of fact, he’s the one who brought in a new chair when the padding on the old one got worn through. He and Tim both like to sit; Kayden enjoys being on his knees. The customers probably don’t give a shit about their physical positions other than the locations of their hands and mouth (and, apparently in one instance, Charlie’s ass).

“Problem?” Kayden snarks right back.

Raoul lifts his hands and shakes his head. “Peace, man. He just comes in here a lot.”

“Once a week isn’t a  _ lot _ .” Kayden brushes by Raoul and starts cashing out the till. “Not when some of the guys come in two, three times a week.”

“It’s like he comes here looking for you.”

“He comes here looking for mouth. Go lock the front door.”

But that’s when Kayden decides he might just go home for Thanksgiving after all.

* * *

His family  _ really _ doesn’t do holidays. The trailer’s pretty much always a tense place, but never more so than when they have to pretend to be nice to each other.

But this time it’s almost...  _ nice _ . His mom’s sister and her son join them for Thanksgiving dinner. His mom has roasted an herbed turkey roll, his aunt brings green bean casserole and cranberry sauce, and Kayden himself peels and mashes about a million sweet potatoes. His cousin assists by eating most of the marshmallows. His dad is into the wine by ten AM, as usual, but for once he doesn’t start yelling at Kayden, or Kayden’s mom, or the TV. All in all it’s not too bad.

They eat their dinner at three, which isn’t so bad since it was meant to be ready at two. While Kayden’s dad has himself a little alcohol-and-tryptophan induced nap, Kayden shoots the shit with his cousin (Jason, fourteen, a little full of himself but pretty cool for a kid), while his mom gabs with her sister.

Jason crashes out around five, but Kayden feels wide awake.

“Going for a walk,” he tells his mom, who looks up and gives him a distracted smile.

“Don’t stay out too late. It’s been below freezing the last few nights.”

“It’s a shame you can’t move the trailer closer to the hot springs in winter,” Aunt Josephine says.

Kayden shrugs into his jacket. The main reason it isn’t cold in the trailer is the warmth still radiating from the oven and the number of people in the space. Up in his shitty city apartment he’s permitted himself a space heater for the worst nights (thank you, Tanner’s tips, for keeping Kayden warm at night— _ ha _ ).

“Back soon.”

 

  
His feet take him toward the high school, of course. He can’t gatecrash anyone’s Thanksgiving. Well, he  _ could _ , but in the spirit of for once not being an entire asshole, he doesn’t. He just walks, enjoying the crisp cool air and the sounds that are not car-horns-sirens-alarms-fighting-yelling-city sounds. 

When he gets to the school he finds a rock to park his ass on, looking west toward the shape on the horizon that’s Black Mountain, and rolls a joint. The sun is going down, turning the town to gold. It’s pretty; prettier still once he’s smoked half of the thin joint. Hitting the weed too hard is pointless when he’s alone and can’t point out interesting clouds or tell dumb jokes to an equally stoned friend.

He misses Sat. Maybe she’s home and he should go visit her after all. Better than them both being lonely: her in her unique way of feeling isolated even with her family around her, and him by virtue of being alone out here.

The grit and scrape of footsteps in the sand and gravel let him know that in fact he’s not alone out here after all.

“Hello, Kayden.” Tanner’s voice is quiet, but with an edge to it, like he wishes he’d led with a stinging barb.

Kayden doesn’t turn around, taking one last long drag before dropping the roach in the dirt and scraping it with his boot. “Hello, Tanner.”

“I haven’t seen you around town. Visiting for Thanksgiving?”

“Yeah.”

Tanner sits down uninvited on the rock to Kayden’s right. “Me too. Put any drugs in the pumpkin pie?”

“You fucker,” Kayden says without malice. Much malice, anyway.

“What’ve you been doing?”

Kayden does  _ not _ say, “Sucking your dick, idiot,” and instead shrugs. “Giving art college a try.”

“Yeah? With Raina?”

“Nah. UNM.” Kayden is starting to get the feeling that Tanner is subtly fucking with him. He can’t not have realized by now. Surely he’s realized by now. “You?”

Tanner visibly preens and taps the ubiquitous camera around his neck—obviously not the one that caught fire, something shiny and new that his parents undoubtedly bought for him. “Freelance photography. Mostly weddings.”

“Hey, neat,” Kayden says. To his surprise he doesn’t have to feign enthusiasm. Sure, he knows about Tanner’s work in the way that he knows how Tammy C’s seven months pregnant and Lisa’s working reception for her dad’s law firm and Mateo got shot over a drug deal gone wrong. Good things, bad things, heard it on the grapevine things. But it’s different to see the glow on Tanner’s face when he talks about it. “Does it pay well?”

“Surprisingly so.”

“I guess you’ll be heading somewhere more interesting than this dump of a town.”

Tanner raises an eyebrow. “Most of my more interesting life experiences have been in this dump of a town.”

“Only most?” Kayden ripostes for the sake of watching Tanner’s ears and cheeks go pink.

“Well...”

For a drawn-out heartbeat of a moment it seems like Tanner’s going to break down the wall between them after all. But then it passes, and Tanner’s rising to his feet, popping the lens cap off his camera.

“I should—I said I’d take some sunset shots over the mountains. Postcards, you know. Boring shit.”

“Boring shit,” Kayden echoes, levering himself up before he can do what he usually does when he’s down here and Tanner’s up there. “Well. Good to see you.”

“You too, man,” Tanner says. Then, “Hey... hold up. Can I take a picture?”

Kayden turns to face him, and flips him a double bird, holding it until the flash goes off. It’s bright, making him blink. When his vision clears he can see Tanner frowning a little.

“Is that a new badge?”

Kayden glances down nonchalantly at where he’s sewn Tanner’s shirt button to his jacket in among his array of pins. “Something I picked up in the city.” He smirks. “Anyway, gotta get home, Mom’ll worry if I’m not in before dark.”

Tanner isn’t listening. Tanner is running his fingertips down the tortoiseshell buttons on the front of his shirt, coming to the place where the bottom one isn’t.

Kayden doesn’t wait for him to look up again before he turns around and walks away.

* * *

The next Saturday morning—well, at two in the afternoon clock-time, but it’s morning Kayden-time—he wakes up feeling like absolute shit. He calls in sick, unable to move far from the bed, aching and dizzy and full of snot and gunk.

Jude takes the call and says she’ll find someone to cover him. Twenty minutes later Michael shows up at his tiny dump of an apartment with a veritable bucket of steaming chicken and corn soup from the Chinese place down the street. Also ibuprofen, a brand new blanket, and a video case.

“If you wad me to shelve thad, I’m godda shove id up your ass.”

“It’s not from work, it’s a present.”

Kayden owns exactly three videotapes; it’s not like he has to buy porn, so it’s the  _ Star Wars _ trilogy. He doesn’t give much of a shit about the movies himself, but he used to watch them with his cousin Jason, and they’re thus one of the things he kind of likes about his family life.

“Go od thed.”

Michael turns the case around and Kayden immediately recognizes the creepy masked face on the cover: it’s  _ Phantom of the Paradise _ .

“I remembered the t-shirt you wore to your job interview, and took a stab in the dark that a college student might not have the disposable income for videos.”

“By idcobe’s fide,” Kayden says, but he takes the video—and the blanket, ibuprofen, and soup—anyway.

The last thing Michael gives him is his home phone number.

“I assume this is just the flu, but if you still feel this bad by Tuesday, call me and I’ll have someone come visit you.”

“Segzy stribber durses?”

“No, not sexy stripper nurses. Eat your soup and go back to bed.” Michael looks as though he wants to hug Kayden, but settles for patting his shoulder before he leaves.

It only occurs to Kayden after he’s downed his soup and curled up under his new blanket that Michael’s afraid of Kayden having what Jonathan has.

* * *

He’s fine by Tuesday, quieter than usual at work, letting Charlie cover the arcade. Nobody wants a blowjob when the blower’s still got the sniffles.

It’s almost closing time and the place has been dead for at least half an hour. Kayden’s taking a nap with his head down on the counter when Charlie dings the service bell right beside his ear.

“Fuck!”

“Morning, sunshine.”

“ _ Why _ .”

“Thought you’d like to hear a bedtime story before you go home.”

Kayden’s expecting to hear about something else that Charlie has managed to stick in someone’s ass or have stuck in his ass through the glory hole (despite Michael’s edict, Charlie has been fooling around, reasoning that as long as it’s not dick in ass it’s fine).

“Yeah, go on.”

“You know your nerd boyfriend?”

“Who?” Kayden asks blearily, honestly not knowing who the fuck Charlie means.

“The ginger who shows up most Saturday nights.”

Kayden stiffens. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Course not. He was here when you were sick.”

“Did he still go back there?”

“Sure did.” Charlie seems to be waiting for some sort of reaction. Kayden’s pretty sure he doesn’t give one; all the same, Charlie looks obscurely pleased. Maybe Charlie just read something into the way Kayden’s breath kind of hitched, but that was totally him trying not to cough. Maybe Kayden blinked and Charlie took it as meaning something. Who knows. Charlie’s weird. 

Kayden’s not jealous. He’s  _ not _ .

“And?”

“Things were proceeding as they usually do…”

“Spit it out.”

Charlie dives into the gaping innuendo hole that Kayden’s opened for him right there. “Well, I pretty much did, because during the proceedings I hear, ‘Oh, God, Kayden,’ from the other side of the wall.”

Kayden’s frantically flipping through his mind, searching for a comeback, a quip, anything, but nothing is coming out of his slack mouth.

“So I said, ‘wrong mouth, buddy’, and when he heard my voice he just zipped up and bolted.”

Kayden manages to say, “Bullshit,” but he knows it isn’t.

And he knows that now, the game has truly changed.


End file.
